All those doubts were behind her now though as she dodged an interesting designed attack from the fleeing ship. Again, she was impressed with the guile of Captain Jennings. Had she not altered her approach vector at the last moment, she would have been in a lot of trouble. It was a nice try, but Captain Jennings and his associates were running out of lives, she thought to herself as she depressed the firing trigger again.
The shot should have taken out the Melody Tryst’s engines, the aft shields being as weakened as they were, but the shot missed entirely, going past the nose of the fleeing ship. That wasn’t possible, she again thought to herself. They can’t be slowing down. A split second too late she realized what they had done. Desperately, she jerked up and away on the control stick, but she had already shot past the Melody Tryst.
“No,” she managed to whisper as the Melody Tryst’s weapons opened up full.
3
The Dime Gambit tended to wreak havoc on ship and crew, but it was well worth it if pulled off successfully. It involved disengaging the majority of the ship’s inertia dampeners, combined with a cold cut off of the sublight engines and a full firing from the ship’s retro-rockets, which were really only designed for atmospheric use. It resulted in a gut wrenching change in momentum as all were flung against the safety harnesses they had quickly scrambled into.
The cockpit was showered in sparks as electrical conduits blew. A pipe over head burst in a billow of steam, and red lights everywhere flashed warnings of damage to various ship systems. There were only two that Jennings was concerned with though: the FTL engines and the Magellan computer system. Both were still in the green.
Once they were stopped the computer immediately began its calculations, while Fix fired a salvo at their passing attacker. He scored multiple hits even as the ship tried to veer out of the way. Jennings could tell it was not a fatal attack, but that was all right with him as long as they got the seven seconds they needed.
Lafayette was looking over Jennings’ shoulder at the computer. “Ready,” Jennings said. “Punch it!”
Lafayette hit the FTL Engage button, and the Melody Tryst rocketed out of the system.
4
Selena Beauregard restrained a scream of pure frustration as her instrument displays went dark. The ship’s sensors had been knocked offline from the final barrage from the Melody Tryst. Because of that, she would not be able to calculate in which direction they had left. Perhaps more importantly for her was the fact that the stealth ship’s Light Shroud had been damaged in the battle. She was visible on sensors once again. Even if she could have followed the Melody Tryst, they would see her coming from a parsec away. Without the cloaking technology, the Trenton-class ship was outgunned and out-classed by most ships.
She had failed. It was an entirely new sensation to her and she was anathema to it, but her sense of professionalism quickly took over.
“Computer activate scramble code Omega and send subspace relay via Wyvern channel,” she ordered.
The Resistance had their own communication systems hidden throughout the known galaxy that operated independently of the major channels. Paulsen had given her the code to report on the success of the mission. She never thought she would need it to report the opposite.
“Ms. Beauregard,” Major Geoff Paulsen announced as a shadowed version of his face appeared on her screen.
She scowled in return.
“The line is secure,” he immediately said, realizing why she was annoyed.
“Then why the shadow?” she demanded.
“No line is that secure,” he replied.
She couldn’t see it, but she was sure he was smirking.
“I trust you are calling to inform of the mission’s success?” he asked.
Wincing noticeably, she said, “No, mission is a failure.”
“I suggest you remedy that situation, Ms. Beauregard or things could become very unpleasant for you,” he replied, his tone dark.
“No remedy is available,” she replied. “They have escaped and my ship is damaged. The ship was unable to decode the response from whoever is buying the girl from Captain Jennings, so I don’t know where their rendezvous is. My sensors were down when they jumped, so I don’t even know what their telemetry was. There is nothing more I can do. It is over.”
“We’ll see about that,” was all Paulsen said before he signed off, leaving her alone, drifting in space.
“Well, that was comforting,” she muttered just as a new alarm started going off. “Even better,” she observed.
Another ship had closed on her and was grappling onto her ship. They were going to pull her into their cargo bay. With an annoyed sigh, she pulled out a plasma pistol, checked its charge, and clicked off the safety. This mission was becoming a colossal pain in the ass.
5
“General, you will immediately set the ship’s course for Barnard’s VI,” Overseer Pahhal announced as he stepped out onto the bridge of the TGFS Intrepid.
The Intrepid was one of the larger ships in what remained of the Terran space force and the bridge accurately reflected that. The bridge sat at the very top of the ship and was enclosed in a rectangular glass dome that sank on pistons and was covered with solid tritanium during battle. While cruising normally, it gave an unparalleled view of the stars and Pahhal wondered often how they could work while something so beautiful was all around them.
General Ounimbango sat in the middle of an up-raised dais that was surrounded by six officer stations and two small sets of stairs that led to a larger area wrapping around the dais. In that section, enlisted men and a few lower grade officers handled the actual operation of the vessel. Human senses of hierarchy made little sense to Pahhal, which was one of the reasons why he seemed oblivious or indifferent to the reasons behind Ounimbango’s barefaced look of ire. He had seemingly embarrassed the general in some way.
Pahhal glided onto the dais as Ounimbango stood and pulled in closely to Pahhal. “You have embarrassed me in front of my men,” he hissed. “I am in command of this vessel. I say where it goes.”
“You go where I tell you,” Pahhal whispered back darkly, before adding at a more audible level, “Apologies that my excitement got the better of me, but the package we have been waiting for has been found and is being taken to Barnard’s VI.”
“Oh, the girl was captured? Fantastic,” the general said without any enthusiasm. If they had contacted Pahhal directly, that meant that Petrova had failed and that Jennings had the bounty. All that money was lost- he tried to keep a neutral expression on his face, but there was something about the way the Gael stared at him that unnerved him.
Desperate to fill the growing silence, the general was about to order the navigation officer to change course, but he stopped and turned back to the overseer. “Why Barnard’s VI?” he asked. “It’s a little out of the way.”
“We will be picking up additional cargo there while we wait for Captain Jennings,” Pahhal replied cryptically.
The general waited for the Overseer to clarify, but he did not. “As you wish,” Ounimbango replied at last before relaying the new course.
It was almost time, Pahhal thought to himself. The Gael had fought wars, subjugated races, and hunted across space and time, and now Operation Aurora was finally coming to fruition. At last, at long last, the words echoed in his mind.
6
Vesper Santelli had been having a decent evening. There had been a very nice cocktail party that one of his friends was throwing on his old fashioned water based luxury liner. Three thousand people were cruising from Italy to Greece for the night and there was enough alcohol, partying and joviality for everyone. It was especially nice for Santelli because he had stumbled upon Tricia, the wife of one of his old business rivals. She was a trophy certainly, young, blonde and stupid, and her ferocious love-making was more than adequate (on his rival’s own bed no less).
He had of course promised her that his ability to father children had long since been surgically elimina
ted, and that simple lie had allowed him to forego the use of protection. It wasn’t true, of course, but the idea of his enemy being forced to raise a child of his was too awesome a possibility to pass up. It aroused him so that their first congress was over in a matter of moments. Santelli assuaged her anger quickly and was on to round two before Tricia had even realized that she had agreed to more coitus. Much more satisfied on the second go ‘round, she moaned his name, and Santelli captured the whole liaison with a small camera. Useful footage in case Tricia’s husband should make a nuisance of himself further down the road.
After leaving the satisfied Tricia in her husband’s cabin suite, he returned to his, but not before tempting a waitress who was a little on the heavy side into joining him for a little frottage. He was sitting at a desk in his suite, staring at his reflection in one of the wall mirrors, admiring what he saw. At sixty years old, he looked forty with just the slightest bit of silver in his gray hair. He was lean, muscled and tan, and had dark, intelligent eyes that appraised others easily and gave little away. He shuddered in pleasure and cast a look down at the waitress who knelt in front of him, and ran a hand through her hair.
A knock on the door interrupted the moment, and Santelli felt the waitress stop.
“Come in!” he called.
Salv Rocca, one of his trusted aides, strode in wearing a look of some seriousness and a Saville Road suit. “Apologies, Mr. Santelli,” he said. “But there is some news that I thought you would want to know immediately.”
“Go ahead,” he said to Rocca before looking down at the waitress and saying, “No one told you to stop.”
As the waitress returned to pleasuring him, Rocca said undeterred, “It’s about the Strikeplain expedition.” He paused, not sure how to phrase what he had to say around an outsider. “There was a setback. Unfortunately, the endeavor failed and a new mission team will be required.”
“Get out,” Santelli immediately growled at the waitress, his eyes narrowed. He waited for her to leave before he said. “They’re all dead?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Cocksucker!” he roared, smashing his hands down on the desk. The night had been going so well too. “Get everyone together. It looks like we’re going to war.”
7
The plasma pistol ended up being completely useless for Selena Beauregard. Whoever had captured her had simply gassed the entire cargo bay. They had taken her without a shot fired. Her failure was becoming more and more unbearable as she sat in a small cell, a force field protecting the small aperture in the four gray walls. There was a tiny bed, a sink and toilet in the cell crammed together. Beauregard sat on the bed with her long legs pulled up to her chest, chin resting on her knees.
Her first and only visitor was a short woman wearing a green business suit. Her hair was pulled back, but Selena instinctively recognized the woman as a predator. There was something about the way she sized up a human being in a cage that was too damned eerie.
“A Resistance member, da?” Anastasia Petrova asked.
“No,” she replied.
“Of course not,” she answered. “You’re clearly not with Santelli’s group. Even he doesn’t have the resources for a Trenton stealth ship, not to mention that he vanted to capture Captain Jennings and the girl alive. Based on the fight the two of you had, you vere trying to kill them.”
“Maybe Captain Jennings broke my heart,” she replied.
Petrova laughed heartily. “He has that reputation as vell, but this is not the truth, da?” She paused. “Maybe I’ll ask him vhen ve catch him.”
“Nee puha nee paira,” Selena said.
Petrova smiled. “Luck has nothing to do vith it,” she said. “Ve know his telemetry and ve’ll follow him.”
“What makes you think he won’t change his course?” she demanded. “He got out of here in a hurry, and I am willing to bet you couldn’t decode the transmission he received back from his buyer.”
“I didn’t have to,” she explained. “A little known fact about the Dime Gambit is that it tends to ruin engines. The Melody Tryst will die shortly. There’s only so far he can go.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” Selena demanded.
“Vhy vouldn’t I?” she asked. “Vhat could you possibly do vith it?”
Selena was silent.
Petrova’s eyes narrowed and her voice became harsher, her accent more pronounced, “I vill capture Captain Jennings and I vill take his bounty from him. No one vill ever dare question who the best bounty hunter in this galaxy is. You vill bear vitness to this.”
“Minor inferiority complex?” she responded with an upraised eyebrow, trying to convey a sense of being unimpressed.
“Humph,” Petrova said and started to stalk away from the cell. Just as she was about to be out of Selena’s narrow sightline, she stopped and turned on a heel. “The buyer is a Gael. I vonder vhat he vould pay for a member of the Resistance?” She smiled ruthlessly. “Enjoy your stay, da?”
Chapter 17
1
Black spots swarmed in front of Matthew Jennings’ eyes as the Melody Tryst rocketed through the darkness between systems. The adrenaline of the past few hours finally seemed to be wearing off, and his body was realizing just how hurt he really was. Pushing the feeling of queasiness down into the pit of his stomach, he turned to Lafayette and said, “I need you to compile a damage report. Stay here though. I want someone in the conn at all times until we have some more distance away from Strikeplain. Work with Squawk and find out just how bad everything is.”
“Yes, mon capitaine,” he replied.
“Fix, I think I’m about ready for your services,” he managed to get out to the doctor before passing out.
2
When he awoke, Jennings had the feeling that several hours had passed. He was lying on a surgical table, strapped down. He could have reached the buckles and let himself free, but he was too tired and sore to move. Lifting his head up slightly, he could see that Fix had been forced to cut through his pants to get to the plasma burn that had gone straight through his leg. The various cuts, scrapes, and bruises had all been tended to. His naked chest seemed to have more red and purple skin then normal light tan, but he supposed he would live… at least until the next time. The door to their small infirmary slid open and Fix walked in.
Jennings smiled at him. “I’m getting awful tired of waking up in here,” he said.
“Aye, Cap’n,” Fix agreed. “But if you do nae spring a leak every so often, you might start to doubt if you need me on this tub.”
“Good point,” he agreed.
Fix turned serious for a moment. “I had to dose you with perimescaline to do the surgery- you’ll be a little groggy for a while,” he explained.
“How long was I out?” he asked.
“Eight hours,” he replied. “You were lucky. The shot ripped through the flesh just above and to the right of your knee. No ligaments were damaged- just the meat. It did nick the femoral artery, which is why I had to do surgery. Something that big will nae respond well to bio-engineered adhesives. You’ll be sore for a while, but you will nae need any more surgery, and you will nae need rehab.”
“Any other good news?” Jennings asked.
“I gave you a pint of synthetic O positive,” he added. “That’s a lot of wounds in one week. I thought it better to be cautious.”
“Thanks, Fix,” Jennings said as he unbuckled himself from the surgical bed and stood up.
In his shorts, he walked gingerly to his cabin, putting as little weight as possible on the injured leg until he got used to what it could handle. Moving rather slowly, he put on a new pair of cargo pants and a fresh T-shirt- ones without bloodstains were running in short supply, he noted. Sitting on his small bed, he put on his boots and then pushed the intercom button on the wall next to his bed.
“Marquis?” he called.
“Yes, mon capitaine?” came the reply.
“Any contacts?” he asked.
“Ne
gative,” Lafayette reported.
“Pull everyone together in the Caf for a status update,” he said and then signed off.
His leg seemed to feel better and more relaxed with each step he took, and he was almost back up to full speed as he made his way to the common room. Fix was already there, seated at the table. As Jennings approached, he tossed him a small pill bottle.
“Some of what I had to give you earlier,” Fix explained. “Use as needed.”
“Thanks,” Jennings said as he sat down, placing the bottle into a pocket as he did so.
Lafayette was the next to arrive, followed by a rather wearied looking Squawk. It was the first time Jennings could remember seeing him like that. “We’ve got problems,” Lafayette announced as he sat down.
“When don’t we?” Jennings replied.
“Won’t work, won’t work, won’t work,” Squawk grumbled, slamming a small fist down on the table.
“What won’t work?” he asked the Pasquatil.
“All won’t work,” the engineer explained.
“The main power plant is in trouble,” Lafayette explained. “Apparently, the ship didn’t like the Dime Gambit very much.”
“Engines overloaded!” Squawk exclaimed. “Caused a cascade failure in main power!”
“What the hell are we running on?” Jennings demanded.
“It hasn’t gone critical yet,” Lafayette replied. “We’ve got about seventy minutes.”
“Nine hours since we left Strikeplain,” Jennings mused aloud. “Barnard’s VI is about…”
“Seventeen hours beyond that,” Lafayette finished. “At sub-light, we’d be looking at…”
“A bloody long time,” Fix said.
The captain chewed his lower lip for a moment. “Can we make repairs in space?” he asked Squawk.
“Componentless,” he said sadly.
“Maybe we can change the rendezvous with the Gael,” Jennings suggested. “They can meet us out here. Maybe we can negotiate a tow for good measure.”
111 Souls (Infinite Universe) Page 15